


What We Bare

by httpstiles



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Forcibly Stripped, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt Pidge | Katie Holt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Langst, Non-Consensual, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpstiles/pseuds/httpstiles
Summary: Unable to remember how they landed in this predicament, Pidge sits alone in a cell. The events that follow are unexpected, leaving them shaken and their friend traumatized.





	What We Bare

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE (before reading): I just want to say that I originally wrote this as Pidge using she/her pronouns, and I went back later to change that to they/them when I had the idea for a possible second chapter. If there are any instances in which I used she/her for Pidge, it is an honest mistake and please feel free to politely inform me of it.

Pidge remembers being on a mission. It’s the last thing they can remember. They’d gone on a stealth mission to recover some Galra trade data, and as far as they can recall, everything was going just fine.

So _what happened?_

 

Another flare of pain radiates from the back of their head. Pidge wonders what the damage is and how long they’ve been here. It can’t be too bad because of their helmet and the lack of damage to it– based on the stats on their visor screen.

They try to think back to the start of the mission. They’d all been there, they know. They and Lance had gone to the control deck and– no. Not all of them had been there. Keith stayed behind because of a previous injury on a mission.

So it was them and Lance in the room, and Shiro and Hunk stood guard outside the doors.

But it had been going fine.

Maybe… it had been going too fine.

 

A _trap_ , Pidge settles on.

It had to have been a trap. How didn’t they see it sooner?

A bang echoes from somewhere outside their cell. They listen for something else, but nothing follows. It’s quiet.

And the silence is bothersome.

A few times they try using the communicator in their helmet, but it seems to be switched off and they can’t reach to fix it.

Their wrists are bound behind them to a ring in the floor. It’s not comfortable, but they figure it could be worse.

 

They try to keep track of the time, but their head strikes with random pulses of pain that make them lose count of the minutes.

Eventually, they give up on counting and grunts, tugging at the metal bindings again, hoping for them to weaken under the pulls, but the metal around their wrists remain strong.

 

“Hello!” Pidge screams at the cell’s door. “I’m getting tired of this shit!” They don’t know what they’re hoping to get out of yelling. Maybe if someone comes to shut them up they can asses the situation better. Maybe a guard would give away if the others were here too, or let slip what the point is in keeping them here.

Maybe one of the others would hear them.

 

Unfortunately, there’s no response, and nothing happens.

 

After a while, a sharp snick makes them jolt, and they’re up in a second, but yanked down by the short chain just as fast. Their knee pads break their fall, but it rattles through their body and causes the ache in their head to worsen. They stay on their knees and look up to the door.

It slides open with a loud grinding sound, revealing a tall Galran officer. Pidge isn’t surprised in the least that this is who has them. They are surprised at the fact that the Galran is a woman. Logically, they know they exist and has seen some on occasion, but they had yet to encounter one.

 

“What do you want?” Pidge snarls at the Galran. “Where are my friends?”

They make a small hum of acknowledgment before turning to something Pidge can’t see down the hall. The Galran raises her hand with a beckoning motion and suddenly there are three guards swarming into their space.

Pidge lets out a startled shout, and when one latches onto their arm, they start yelling and trying to fight back.

The grip on their arm is unforgiving, and the second their wrist is free of the manacle, they pull and kicks out with everything they have. They manage a solid strike against one of them before a sharp pain fires up from their neck.

Only as their body starts to go lax against their will do they realize that they must have drugged them.

“Hold him up,” the Galran woman says. “Strip him.”

Pidge’s eyes widen and their heart rate picks up as they try to get them to _let go_. Another guard grabs their other arm and the two hold them up. The third steps forward and Pidge mentally recoils.

“No,” they mutter weakly.

“Silence him,” the officer adds on. She sounds bored, if anything, as she hands the guard something.

“He’s rather annoying.”

And _oh_ – that’s a… that’s a gag.

The guard snatches them by the hair and lifts their head. With the lack of control over their body, it doesn’t take more than a couple seconds for odd material to slip between their lips and settle behind their teeth. It feels something akin to a mouth guard but has two straps on either side that reach around their head and clasp.

Hands descend upon their armor and start removing the wrist guards. They yank their helmet off next.

Their fingers manage to move, but they can’t do more than hyperventilate as they grab at their breastplate.

“No,” they try to say. It’s useless. Their muffled pleas fall flat as the guard moves to their legs.

 

With their boots gone, they can feel the ground beneath their feet, legs limp and toes pressing against the metal awkwardly. The cold runs up their spine and sends shivers throughout.

If the the guards see them crying, they don’t comment on it.

 

“The suit now,” the officer commands. “Must I really tell you everything step by step?”

The Galran doesn’t respond, choosing instead to pull out a knife.

Their breathing hitches and they try to keep it under control as the knife glides down their front, mere millimeters from touching their skin.

He cuts down the middle, then along each of their arms and legs until their suit is falling to the ground in pieces.

All that’s left is their compression sports bra and boxer shorts. They can feel their body trembling.

“Feeling a bit exposed?” One of the guards teases, tugging on their arm a bit.

Pidge ignores him and trains their eyes on the woman. She looks confused.

With a grunt, the Galran officer steps forward and forcibly moves the other Galran away.

She grabs one of the bra straps and pulls.

It tears and air hits Pidge’s exposed breasts and they whine high and pitched. They struggle against the hold, but alas it does nothing but make their muscles twitch. They could let them go and they wouldn’t be able to do more than fall to the ground.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” The woman drops the bra and reaches for their underwear.

Pidge _keens_ and the woman retracts her hand before ever making contact.

“You are a _female_ ?” One of the guards moves, but the woman smacks them. “Do not look! Did I tell you to look? They are _mine_.” A sense of dread washes over them at the tone. Is she referring to them, or are the others here?

The guard nods and gathers himself.

“I will ask again but not once more. Are you female? Nod yes or no.”

Pidge nods the best they can.

The officer steps back and takes a deep breath. Her anger quickly fades and resolve washes over her.

“Chain her back up. We’re done here.”

 

—

 

Their wrists are restrained behind their back again, but not before a thin and very loose rag is forced onto their body. It’s a makeshift shirt, probably something given to prisoners, but it has no sleeves and does nothing to support their breasts. The gag is left behind as well, but Pidge is thankful for the small mercy of the material.

The officer injects one more thing into their neck before leaving.

 

It goes silent for a long while again.

 

—

 

The last injection never has a reaction that they can notice, and the effects of the first drug wear off after a bit. Once they can move, they try to reach for their helmet with their toes, but it’s such a horrible angle that they can’t reach half as far as they are tall.

 

They decide on curling inward to protect their body from whoever may come next.

 

—

 

They’re not expecting it to be Lance.

 

Lance is a crying mess, covered in blood and injuries, but holding one of the guard’s guns in hand.

His own underwear looks stretched, the ends of the material are frayed. The skin-tight tank top he usually wears under his suit is loose on his body, with a single cut running up the side, but not quite making it through to the top.

Lance looks much like they felt just earlier.

He takes one look at Pidge and drops to their side. His shaking hands hover but don’t touch them. They look up at him through their hair and he finally speaks.

“Did she touch you?” he asks. His voice is scratchy and they eye bruises around his throat. “I swear to God if she–” Lance makes a fist and presses it against his mouth as more tears fall down his face.

Pidge shakes their head and he nods with a small, sad smile. Plenty of times they’ve seen Lance sad, but never like this. Never barely holding it together.

“Good. Good. Okay. Let’s get you out of this, okay?”

Pidge just nods again.

He pulls out keys then. There are specks of blood on them, and by the tremble in his hand, they’re starting to guess that none of the blood is his.

 

The others show up not much later, Allura and Keith tagging along, too. The latter still seems tired, but they don’t comment on it.

All that matters to them is that they’re getting out of here.

**Author's Note:**

> And that!! is my first Bad Things Happen story! Please leave comments and kudos as you please :) Reach me on [tumblr](https://sakurakeith.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/macnstiles)!


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